The Brightest Stars Have Hearts of Kyber
by a person d
Summary: The Force is a part of everything, and it knows who its champions are, even if they don't. It will do anything necessary to keep itself balanced. Returning its champions to life isn't really all that difficult when the balance is at stake. Fix-it fic, rebelcaptain, everyone lives AU!
1. Prologue

**A/N** : SO… I'm in denial. Very strong, passionate denial. Knowing myself, I'm never gonna get over that denial, because I love too deeply the souls of characters for them to ever truly dead in my eyes. For once, I'm going to do something with that denial and maybe feel better about it. Just this once, everybody lives. They might have to die first, though. Bear with me. Feel free to review if you like, but if you need to read as much as possible in as little time as possible, I completely understand.

 _The brightest stars have hearts of Kyber,_

 _And how beautifully your work did shine!_

 _The Force cried when it all went out_

 _And thought to let the spark of Kyber live again._

* * *

 **Prologue** :

When the explosion hit, Jyn did not feel it. The Energy shock wave had killed her and Cassian before the physical movement could shift the sand beneath them an inch. That isn't to say she did not feel at all the moment the matter of her being was destroyed, just that the feeling wasn't connected to the nerves of the body when it happened. Nor did it mean that she was one hundred percent wiped from the universe, either.

The Force is a little funny about that kind of thing sometimes.

It is especially funny when the ones that serve it so dutifully, to keep it balanced, to guard its will, are the ones asking it to be.

Before the explosion that took Jyn and Cassian, before Baze and Bodhi could watch a grenade explode just a bit too close, Chirrut Îmwe, Guardian of the Whills, was shot and became the closest one could be with the Force. Immediately every jedi and guardian and sentience with an ounce of desire to see the Force balanced who had already passed cried out for his return to life. Chirrut just smiled, content to do as the Force instructed.

When Bodhi joined him minutes later, the chorus grew louder, much to the cargo pilot's surprise.

It only gained strength with the arrival of Baze, who met Chirrut's smile with a sigh.

Jyn and Cassian returned together, still wrapped in each other's arms and the Kyber crystal, still around Jyn's neck, burning with the heat of a supernova between them. As it cooled, the cries of the dead drowned out everything but itself.

And the Force acquiesced.


	2. Chapter 1

A/N: As a general FYI, I have a very poetic style of writing, and it tends to be dense in imagery and metaphors. If you had trouble understanding the prologue, then this isn't the story for you because that's most likely how most, if not all, chapters will be. Also, the actual poetry at the beginning of the prologue and now this chapter is mine, also. That's probably going to keep happening too; I find it makes for a good mood setter and also I enjoy the metaphors between the poetry and the actual chapter.

Chapter 1:

 _Do you know of the supernova?_

 _Of the stars that burn so bright_

 _It kills them?_

 _As they near their end,_

 _They expand and expand and expand, then_

 _Collapse_

 _And_

 _E_X_P_L_O_D_E,_

 _Flinging out their elements_

 _And creating new life._

* * *

When Scarif went the way of Jedha, it left a scar in the land. Where once towered a base, military in organization and precision and order, there now lied naught but rubble. The planet cried for its surface, and the Force for its children, for all too many were now buried here.

When the force gave heed to its summons, it restored a bit of hope, of love, of compassion to its disposition and returned five souls to their place among the living. Alive, they were the Forces feet. Another team, not yet together, would be the hands, but hands can go nowhere without the feet.

Fitting, was it not, that they were feet? Dirty and ramshackle as they were when they woke up on a planet desolate, it is hard to imagine them as anything else.

Nevertheless, eyes did open (though one pair would not see), and lungs breathed, and-

And they were alive.

No ship, no supplies, no rations. But alive.

Dirt and dust covered skin gave them their only protection from this planet's sun as they picked their way towards each other. Scrapes and scratches lined their palms, stinging with ever greater ferocity as sweat dragged the contaminates into their blood. Each would discover a crystal in their pockets the next day, all save one, whose shined safely around her neck already. The Force likes to remind its followers to whom they cry out for in death and in joy and in pain, and exactly who answers. Kyber is, after all, its focus and also its calling card, lying serenely in the hearts of lightsabers and bowcasters and atop the chest of one of its fiercest fighters.

But for now, they gathered in the midst of the debris and laughed, and cried, and wept (for it is not the same as crying), and rejoiced in their being alive (and Chirrut teased Baze, for if this miracle was not the force, was not the force _with_ _them_ , then what more of a sign could one hope for?), and when they had exhausted themselves with their emotions (and maybe, _finally_ , relieving the tension and kissing in the case of one captain and one rebel), they slept.

And dreamt.

(Far from Scarif, in an entirely different system, a princess was captured and two droids, trusted with the plans so many had died for, were jettisoned from her ship to land on a barren desert planet with twin suns.)

Each would awake with heavier pockets and minds and a desire to see their mission complete and a weapon with all too much power destroyed, and so they planned.


End file.
